Kingdom of the Blind eBook

“I will tell you my impressions, sir,”
the latter continued. “The ignorance displayed
in the German newspapers about England is entirely
a matter of censorship. Their actual information
as regards every detail of our military condition
is simply amazing. They know exactly what munitions
are reaching our shores from abroad, they know how
we are paying for them, they know exactly our financial
condition, they know all about our new guns, they know
just how many men we could send over to France to-morrow
and how many we could get through in three months’
time. They know the private views of every one
of the Cabinet Ministers. They knew in Berlin
yesterday what took place at the Cabinet Council the
day before. You must realise yourself that some
of this is true. How does the information get
through?”

“There are spies, of course,” the Chief
admitted.

“The ordinary spy could make no such reports
as the Germans are getting hour by hour. If I
am to make a success of my job, I want the letters
of Sir Alfred Anselman.”

The Chief considered for several moments. Then
he wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper.

“There’ll be the perfect devil to pay,”
he said simply. “We shall have Cabinet
Ministers running about the place like black beetles.
What’s the matter with your head?”

“I was shot at in the Park,” Thomson explained.
“A man had a flying go at me from a motor-car.”

“Was he caught?”

Thomson shook his head.

“I didn’t try,” he replied.
“I want him at liberty. His time will come
when I break up this conspiracy, if I do it at all.”

The Chief looked a little aggrieved.

“No one’s even let off a pop-gun at me,”
he grumbled. “They must think you’re
the more dangerous of the two, Thomson. You’d
better do what you can with that order as soon as
possible. No telling how soon I may have to rescind
it.”

Thomson took the hint and departed. He walked
quickly back to his room, thrust the order he had
received into an envelope, and sent it round to the
Censor’s Department.

CHAPTER XXVII

Mr. Gordon Jones, who had moved his chair a little
closer to his host’s side, looked reflectively
around the dining-room as he sipped his port.
The butler remained on sufferance because of his grey
hairs, but the footmen, who had been rather a feature
of the Anselman establishment, had departed, and their
places had been filled by half a dozen of the smartest
of parlourmaids, one or two of whom were still in
evidence.

“Yours is certainly one of the most patriotic
households, Sir Alfred, which I have entered,”
he declared. “Tell me again, how many servants
have you sent to the war?”

Sir Alfred smiled with the air of one a little proud
of his record.

“Four footmen and two chauffeurs from here,
eleven gardeners and three indoor servants from the
country,” he replied. “That is to
say nothing about the farms, where I have left matters
in the hands of my agents. I am paying the full
wages to every one of them.”